The Unusual Student
by witchyvamp
Summary: AU What path does Harry Potter choose when there's nothing left for him in the world; rather his world? Stabbed by his own friends, devoid of enemies and bored with life, Harry makes a choice. Where does this choice lead him? And what does it have to do with a young Tom Riddle who is about to start his first year at Hogwarts?
1. King's Cross Again

**Dear Reader,**

 **Thanks for dropping by and giving this story a chance! I really hope you will not be disappointed and will hit the 'Follow' and 'Favorite' buttons when you finish reading the following chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, inspired by the characters of the Harry Potter universe whose sole credit goes to J.K. Rowling.**

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 **Chapter 1: King's Cross Again**

Harry opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by a bright white mist. He found that he was missing his glasses. Yet, his vision felt perfect. However, all he could see around him was the brilliant white light. Despite its intensity, the light lacked any glare and the longer he looked through the mist, the thinner it became.

Harry's first thought was that he was still in his bed, because that was the last thing he remembered doing after the quiet drinks celebrating Ron's birthday. Then, he felt the cold floor under his back and wondered where his bed had disappeared to. As a matter of fact, his clothes had vanished too. Was this one of his weird dreams?

Harry quietly got up; and as he did, he felt that he was wearing his trousers. He could've sworn that he wasn't wearing them a minute ago. Confused, he searched his pockets in the hopes of finding his wand, but his pockets were completely empty. A nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him that whatever was about to happen next, was important. And, his instincts had yet to fail him.

Harry looked up to see that the mist had cleared to reveal a brilliant glass dome and he had a peculiar feeling that he had visited this place before. His mind seemed questionably clearer, and yet he distinctly remembered having much too many drinks with Ron and Hermione last night. In fact, they had both coerced him into drinking with them, uncharacteristically Hermione had joined in with Ron, insisting that it was only fair since they were meeting after such long time. And Harry had guiltily given in.

Harry began looking around him enquiringly. He wasn't able to find much, other than a couple of chairs right in front of him. They had just appeared out of thin air. Right then, he heard a familiar voice call cheerfully.

"Harry!"

No sooner did Harry turn around to meet his sudden visitor; he was enveloped into a bear hug. For a brief moment, Harry felt warm and content in the familiar embrace before his senses warned him of the identity of the person. He carefully pulled away, only to look at the face of a person he had thought he would never see again.

" _Sirius?_ "

His voice only came out as a croak. But the dark-haired man just chuckled at Harry's expressions and nodded merrily.

"But…"

Harry was confused; he had last seen his godfather fall through the Veil at the Ministry in his fifth school year and the memory was still etched clearly and painfully in his mind. He could never ever forget the moment when he had lost his godfather, the only chance he ever had of a family.

"Weren't you thinking about me for a while, Harry? Are you not happy to see me?"

Sirius was pouting; something Harry had never seen him do. And he looked so different; younger and handsome, with a lot less lines on his face. And his godfather was right; Harry had indeed been thinking about him a lot lately. Sirius had been the closest family he had known and now that Harry spent his life mostly alone, he just couldn't help missing his godfather. And wondering what his life would have been if Sirius was still alive…

"Of course, I am happy to see you. But how did you know I have been thinking about you?" Harry questioned.

Sirius did not answer promptly. Instead he gave Harry a wide grin and started looking around them with an amused look on his face. Harry followed his eyes and gasped. They were inside the King's Cross station which was completely deserted except for the two of them.

His first thought was ' _No way this can be real!_ '; but as he gradually took in his surroundings, Harry knew that this was happening for the second time in his twenty one years of lifetime.

Harry eyed Sirius suspiciously who was now gazing at him with a knowing look, his hands in his pockets. Harry knew that he should probably ask him directly about his queries to know what was going on. At least Sirius was not Dumbledore and would probably give him a straight answer rather than cryptic riddles.

"I don't understand. The last time I was here, I had been supposedly killed by Voldemort." Harry wondered aloud.

Sirius frowned, looking away. Harry had a feeling that he was trying to avoid his eyes.

"I am sorry to tell you Harry, but only a similar circumstance could have brought you here again." Sirius informed him in a solemn voice.

Harry's mind went into a whirlwind after these words. Somehow, it made sense. This was exactly the same empty King's Cross station he had visited the last time he escaped death. But Voldemort was already dead; then who had killed him this time? Harry was in perfect health; there was no way he would've died in his sleep.

After finally finishing off Voldemort for good, Harry had spent the next three years of his life chasing after the Death Eaters and bringing them to justice. For all his painstaking efforts, he had eventually succeeded. There wasn't a single supporter of the Dark Lord left on the entire continent since the last year. It wasn't easy; not when his two best friends had decided that they'd had enough of the war. Both Ron and Hermione had in fact tried to persuade Harry to 'live' his life a little, but Harry knew that all his efforts and sacrifices would simply go to waste if even a single follower of Voldemort was left to continue his ideals.

Harry had intensively studied the Dark Arts and all the spells the Death Eaters could possibly know, in order to prepare his strategy against them. Unexpectedly, he had found that the Dark Arts came quite easily to him. Hermione had been visibly worried at that discovery, and only relented when Harry had explained his purpose and demonstrated to her his counter spells. It had then occurred to Harry that an entire branch of magic was still unexplored by him and how little he actually knew about magic.

However, this meant that Harry had no time for any relationships in his life. He had broken it off with Ginny after she had started complaining about how he never gave her enough time or attention. In fact, his friendships with Ron and Hermione had also been strained as well since all they wanted was to move ahead in their lives. They both had got engaged to each other only last year and Harry only wished them happiness in life. But he had carried on with his mission alone.

While his crusade was quite difficult, it wasn't impossible. And Harry had wiped out every single Death Eater from England, and later Europe. After that however, Harry had lost his purpose and interest in life. He had spent almost a year in seclusion; except for the last night. Ron and Hermione had visited him with the reminder that it was Ron's birthday and they had forced him to have some drinks with them 'just like old times'.

Harry distinctly remembered returning to his own bed last night after the drinks. _Did some enemy find and murder me in his sleep?_

"No. But you did die in your sleep. Well, _kind of_." Sirius shrugged while he tried to explain.

Harry realized he had spoken the last sentence out loud. Huh, so if no one had murdered him in his sleep, but he died in his sleep? That just meant that he was poisoned. But he had only met Ron and Hermione last night, since he had refused to go to the party at the Burrow. _But that means... ?_

"Did they…?"

Harry almost whispered the question and wished with all his heart that the answer would be 'No'.

"Yes." Came the blunt reply, shattering Harry's heart completely.

"Why?" Harry choked.

"That's a bit hard to explain… Human emotions are always quite difficult to comprehend and I can only guess the reason. Are you sure you want to know?" Sirius asked in a concerned voice.

By now Harry was enraged to his core. Voldemort had been his enemy; but Ron and Hermione were his friends, _at least he had thought them to be._ He never even saw this betrayal coming. But now he had to know the reason.

"Yes. I'm sure." He hissed.

"Well, the way I see it, they must have misinterpreted Dumbledore's instructions." Sirius began, eyeing him.

" _What?_ " Harry couldn't help being startled. Dumbledore had left some instructions to them regarding him?

"Dumbledore had left them some instructions pertaining to you. He suspected the possibility of you turning towards the darker realms of magic once you had nothing to occupy yourself with. And you being the owner of all the three Hallows, he couldn't risk the rise of another Dark Lord. An invincible Dark Lord at that!"

"But why would he think I would purposely become a Dark Lord when I had the first-hand experience of having suffered at the hands of one?" Harry interrupted, confused.

Sirius sighed.

"Being a Dark Lord doesn't necessarily mean being evil, Harry. I know you have always associated 'dark' as evil, since all you have only been familiar with the worse aspects of it. The truth is Harry, that you have a natural affinity for the Dark Arts."

"Yes, but how could Dumbledore know that when he died? I started studying them after the war!" Harry couldn't help being surprised again.

"Being a Parselmouth is one of the most telling signs of a dark wizard. Wasn't Slytherin always the first choice for you according to the Sorting Hat?" Sirius cocked a brow.

Harry was a bit startled, at the facts that were being relayed to him right now and also because he had never had the chance to tell the real Sirius about his conversation with the Hat. Also the Sirius Black he knew; definitely didn't hold the Dark Arts in such high regards. This man was definitely not the real Sirius Black. But he couldn't even be a creation of his mind; since Harry himself never knew about Dumbledore's instructions.

Sirius just gave him a charming smile, as if he knew what conclusion Harry had reached in his mind. But right now, Harry wanted some answers to the questions he had almost been distracted from.

"So what exactly were the instructions left by Dumbledore?" Harry asked, couldn't help keeping a bit of venom in his voice.

Sirius turned thoughtful at the question. "He may have implied that if you start turning your back from living your life and alienating your friends; and start gravitating towards the Dark Arts, then they should be warned that these were clear signs of you inclining on becoming the next Dark Lord."

"Really? That's all someone has to do to start becoming the next Dark Lord?" Harry was feeling betrayed as well as furious at Dumbledore for thinking him the same as Voldemort. How could the man predict his future just by stating a few _signs_! And then something clicked.

"Hang on, he never told them to murder me, did he?" Harry enquired, his eyebrows fading into his messy hair.

"No." Sirius replied quietly.

So, Ron and Hermione themselves had decided that he was beyond redemption. Or they just wanted to spend their perfect lives in peace instead of worrying about the rise of another Dark Lord. Yes, that actually made sense. He glanced at Sirius who was giving him a sheepish look, as if confirming his suspicions.

Harry let out a long sigh as he sank down into one of the seats. He had a lot of new information to wrap his mind around. He still couldn't believe that his closest friends had betrayed him enough to murder him in his sleep; even Voldemort hadn't been that cruel. And how could they think that he could become a Dark Lord; didn't they know him well enough. At least they could've asked him about his isolation; surely _he_ wouldn't have murdered them for asking questions.

He was distracted from his musings when he felt his companion join him at the adjacent seat. Sirius put a comforting hand around his shoulders in an effort to console him, but it only served to turn Harry's attention on his person. Why was Sirius here instead of Dumbledore, like the last time?

"You aren't really Sirius Black, are you?" Harry asked.

Sirius gave him an amused glance before saying in an emotionless tone, "You have grown quite perceptive over the years. No, the Sirius Black you knew is dead."

"This isn't really happening inside my head, is it?" Harry asked after a few moments of contemplation over the fact that he still deeply missed his godfather.

"No." came a short reply.

"But why Dumbledore, the last time?" Harry couldn't help asking.

This time his lips twitched a little before explaining, "The last time you were here, you needed Dumbledore's guidance. He was the person you wished was still alive to instruct you about how to proceed. This time however, you required your godfather."

Harry could only nod in acceptance. He thought over his situation once again.

"So, what choices do I have this time?" He asked bluntly, knowing that it was inevitable. There was no point in delaying the decision; the sooner he knew his options the better.

"Infinite, actually."

Harry stared at the man beside him, who was smiling a bit smugly.

"Explain." He added, when the man didn't elaborate.

"You can do anything you want. You could go back to the very bed you were sleeping in before you died, and continue your life from there. Or you could go back and relive your life with all the knowledge and power you already possess. Just back in time though, not to the future since it doesn't already exist."

Harry thought about what he had just heard. Now, this was entirely different from the last time. He only had two choices then and he had chosen to go back where he had left. He wondered if he would've gotten these choices then, would his decision have been any different. Harry knew one thing for sure: he wasn't going back to his time. There was nothing left to go back to.

"And who are you really?" Harry asked. The question had been bugging him for quite some time now.

"Anyone you want me to be; since I do not have a mortal form. I am Death." The man replied solemnly, in a very un-Sirius way.

Harry did not feel surprised at the declaration; he had suspected it but was just glad to be confirmed. Everyone knew that he had lost the Resurrection Stone in the forest, but the fact was that the next day he had found the stone right beside him when he awoke and he had kept that a secret. Harry indeed had all the three Deathly Hallows in his possession ever he became their Master since the last four years. The Hallows had given him their allegiance and nothing could keep them finding their way to him even when Harry kept misplacing them.

"I do not want to go back to the time I just left. And I don't even want to relive my life again; not when I know where that life led me to. I must admit however, the temptation to teach all of them a lesson does exist." Harry admitted aloud.

Sirius/Death merely gave him an understanding look, as if to say that whatever decision he made will be acceptable to him.

They both sat in companionable silence for a while as Harry thought about what he wanted to do. He just couldn't think of a time he wanted to go back to.

"I only want one thing." Harry finally said.

"And what might that be?" Sirius/Death enquired.

"I want to learn. Everything there is to learn about magic. I want you to teach me everything I can learn and help me become the best wizard that I could always be. I have realized that my magical education has been far from complete." Harry added the last bit bitterly.

This time, Sirius/Death smiled.

"A fitting request. Not that I undermine your own efforts in learning whatever you could in the past few years of your life, I do think that you've had the worst set of teachers possible during your magical education, _except_ _of course_ _a few_." He added after Harry raised his eyebrow. "There is a reason wizards and witches are educated from the age of eleven to seventeen; your magical core grows and suitably changes with your advancements."

Harry was confused why Death was telling him about all this now. He was well past the growing stage now. And then it struck him.

"You are planning to send me back to being eleven, aren't you?" he accused.

Sirius merely raised his eyebrow, amused.

"I am not planning anything, Harry. However, it is you who plans to learn as much as you can." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Harry bowed his head into his hands and tried to think about all that it would mean for him.

"I'll still have my memory intact, won't I?" he asked worriedly, dreading a negative answer.

"Of course. You did retain your memory the last time we chatted, didn't you? However, if you don't want to, I can oblige you."

" _No._ " Harry answered quickly. A bit too quickly, judging by the smug smile on Sirius's face. "I mean, no thank you."

Sirius merely shrugged, indifferent to his choice.

"Do I have to change my name?" Harry queried.

"Unfortunately, yes. Your last name just… stands out a bit. Don't you worry, I have the perfect name for you."

Harry wanted to ask about the name Death himself had settled for him, but there was a more important question, at the back of his mind.

"Will you come with me? Wherever I'll be going?"

Sirius looked at him, his grey eyes losing the usual haughtiness. "I'm afraid I won't; I can't stay in the living world for too long."

"But the whole point is for you to teach me everything. How can you do that if you don't come with me?"

"Don't you worry about that, I can always bring you back to this plane whenever required. I'll always answer to your call, Master of Death." Sirius said, bowing to him, though mockingly.

"Hmm, so I'll have to be eleven again as well as an orphan. Why don't I just stay here instead of going back to the living world?" Harry mused.

"Because you don't belong here; you belong to the living world. Besides, this plane doesn't even exist in time, so you can't turn eleven here. And don't worry about being an orphan, I know you like living independently so I'll arrange things accordingly. I said that I can't stay in the living world for a long time, not that I can't stay at all." Sirius explained, with a wink.

"Oh." Harry had a feeling that for once, he could trust someone to take care of his choices. Besides, Death did make a great impression of Sirius.

"You haven't decided the time, Harry." Sirius reminded him after Harry had gone silent for a long time.

"Anytime is fine, as long as I don't meet any familiar faces." Harry replied.

Sirius looked thoughtful for a minute. "Avoiding all of them wouldn't be possible, without sending you back to a very conservative and medieval age. And that won't do."

"I just don't want to be reminded about all the people I have lost. Some of who, I never even had a chance to know about. I really don't want that." Harry half explained, half pleaded. He wasn't ready to meet his parents just yet, or Sirius. Well, the _real_ Sirius or Remus!

"I'll keep that in mind." Sirius answered, solemnly.

Harry nodded.

He suddenly heard a familiar train whistle and soon the scarlet steam engine of Hogwarts Express enveloped in her own smoke stopped right in front of their seats.

Harry looked at Sirius, but he just shrugged.

" _Your_ choice, Harry."

Harry knew exactly what he wanted to do and boarded the train without any word. When the train started moving, he heard Sirius's booming voice calling to him, "Don't forget to have fun while you're at it, Harry. For all your pains, you deserve that."

Harry suddenly wondered exactly what Death had planned for him. Whatever it was, he was going to follow Death's advice for sure!

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 **Author's Note :**

 **I would love to have your feedback for the chapter. Please do leave your opinions in the reviews. Next chapter will be up soon.**

 **Happy reading!**


	2. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:** This chapter onwards, the story will continue in Tom Riddle's POV.

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 **Chapter 2: Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

 **1st September, 1938**

Tom Riddle woke up bright and early on the morning of September first. The very first thing he did was to check under his pillow for the small piece of paper that was supposed to be his ticket. Relieved to find it intact, he let his thin fingers trace the golden carving of the ticket, lost in his thoughts. The one day at the Diagon Alley was his only experience of the magical world; the world of witches and wizards, of wonderful magical things. He wasn't allowed to go back there another time, despite all his requests. Apparently, the man who had come to tell Tom of his heritage, who had introduced himself as the deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts, had advised his matron against allowing him to go wandering too much.

The paper in his hand wasn't some random ticket; this was his ticket into another world, _his_ world. A world where he was supposed to belong, where magic existed and people had the power to make impossible things possible. He no longer had to be an unwanted orphan child who everyone hated; he would go into a new world where he would be someone important. Tom knew that this was a rare opportunity and he would have to do everything for surviving in this new world and it wouldn't be easy. Yet, he had a feeling that his life was about to change for good.

Tom had prepared all he could for the new school. He had read and re-read all his course books a number of times and knew them all by heart. He regretted not buying more books but at the time he hadn't known he would not be allowed to go there again. Also, he had been given limited amount of money where all he could afford was second hand things.

Nine o'clock that morning found the eleven year old Tom Riddle in the matron's office. He was dressed in his best clothes and even though he wanted to wear his wizard robes, he couldn't. The deputy headmaster of his new school had warned him against wearing robes in muggle world because the existence of their world was supposed to be a secret. _Muggles_ , oh how he hated them all!

"Ah Tom? Come in." Mrs. Cole looked up when he knocked on her door. He walked inside dutifully.

"I see that you are all packed and ready to leave." She said, inspecting him from her narrowed eyes. Why couldn't she just be happy to be rid of him as he was of her!

"Yes, Ma'am." He answered.

"Well, I just want to say that you've got a really good opportunity here, Tom. Nobody else from this orphanage has ever got an invitation to attend a boarding school before. I hope you'll not give them any reason to expel you." Mrs. Cole warned in her usual no-nonsense voice.

"I understand, Mrs. Cole." Tom said, quite sincerely. If he got his way, he would never ever want to return here again. But, he had to return here every summer; the deputy headmaster had been quite rigid about that.

"Good, good. Do you need someone to drop you to the station, then?" Mrs. Cole asked. It was clear to Tom that she was in the same hurry as he was, to get him out of here.

"Yes, Ma'am. I cannot carry the trunk all the way there." Tom hated to admit that he needed help, but he wasn't foolish enough to let his ego get the better of him.

"Very well, I'll send the gardener with you." Mrs. Cole replied, rising from her chair.

Tom followed behind her, as Mrs. Cole set out to find Dennis, the gardener.

An hour and a half later, Tom pushed his trunk through the barrier between platforms nine and ten and walked into the magical world. Tom had ditched his companion at the entrance of the station itself and it was a good thing that he had, since the muggles seemed oblivious of the entrance to the magical platform.

A scarlet steam engine train whose engine carried the name 'Hogwarts Express', was waiting for him on the other side. The platform was mostly empty except for a few older students who were chatting amongst their group of friends. Of course, their reason for arriving early was different from him; they seemed eager to meet their friends after a long holiday. Tom hoped there would be people surrounding him too some day. He had never had friends, did not even like the concept of friendship, but it would be nice to be known and respected by people.

Tom proceeded to board the train, tugging his second hand trunk with him. With some effort, he managed to pull it inside the train. The coaches were mostly empty. He decided to sit in one of the last carriages of the train, wishing to avoid the rush when other students arrived.

He passed a compartment which contained a sleeping boy who looked to be around Tom's own age. Tom thought it was strange that the boy had come so early and had already fallen asleep. He looked smaller for his age, definitely a first-year. The boy looked quite peaceful, and his unruly hair seemed to stick out at odd angles. Tom unconsciously straightened his own black hair; he did like being tidy. Yet, Tom could say that the messy hair somehow suited the other boy. Tom decided to join the boy, but he was stopped by an invisible barrier when he tried to walk inside his compartment.

 _Huh, the boy did not want to be disturbed then._ It was a brilliant display of magic, Tom admitted that. He looked like a first year and still was so ahead in his skills. Tom had a hard time ahead of him if he wanted to be the best in this new world. He looked at the other boy one last time. He was definitely wearing Muggle clothes, but his trousers looked a little snug and made of unusually thick blue material.

 _Strange_ , Tom thought as he settled himself in the neighboring compartment.

As time passed, people began filling in the platform. Tom observed quietly from his window with interest, as smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The wizarding world definitely took some time getting used to, Tom thought, specially for someone like him who had no idea it ever existed before.

Tom had been wishing that he would be left along for the train ride, but he was joined by two senior girls soon after the train started. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who was unsuccessful in getting past the compartment which had contained the other boy.

"Ah, at least we can get into this one." one of the older girls said, giving Tom a cold look before sitting down. It looked to Tom that she had a temper issue.

"Please don't mind Helena; she is a bit… annoyed that she couldn't figure out the wards the boy next door has put up in his compartment." the other girl offered kindly.

Tom knew how important first impressions were. He had already messed that up for his would-be Deputy Headmaster and did not want to repeat that same mistake again. So, he put up his most innocent expression.

Before Tom could say that he didn't mind their intrusion at all, _which he did mind as a matter of fact_ , the rude girl Helena spoke again.

"I am a sixth year now, Beccs. And I'm supposed to be a Ravenclaw Prefect, and yet I can't dismantle the wards put up by some ickle firstie, no offense to _you_." She said, pointing the last bit towards Tom.

Tom decided to keep himself out of the way of his seniors' conversation. He was, however impressed by the other boy who seemed to be really advanced in his magical skills.

Thankfully, the kind looking girl called Beccs was trying to calm the distraught one.

"'Elena, you don't have to be so stressed about a little thing like this." At this, Helena looked like she was ready to protest, but Beccs continued talking, "Look, maybe the boy didn't put them himself. Perhaps his parent or someone else put them up so that he couldn't be disturbed. He could be ill or something."

Helena seemed to think about that.

"But parents aren't allowed on the train, are they?" she asked.

"An older sibling, then. He must have a seventh year sibling. Come on, 'Elena. The boy barely looked eleven, you can't really think that he did those wards himself."

Tom was wise enough not to voice his own opinion because that would probably put Helena in a worse mood. He knew that there was no other senior on the train when he had boarded the train. He had the feeling that the boy had himself done those 'wards'. He would have to research about them himself when he reached the school; they did look to him like they were very useful.

The two girls then started talking about their vacations, ignoring Tom for which he was quite happy himself. He took out his Charms textbook and started reading.

A witch with a trolley full of sweets came around once, but none of them bought anything from her. Tom was curious about wizard sweets but even if he had enough spare money, he would never waste them on buying sweets. So, he kept his head buried in his book while the girls muttered something about 'not getting fat'.

"You'll fit right into Ravenclaw, you know."

Tom looked up from his book, to see Helena smiling at him. So, the girl was actually pleasant when she wasn't being insecure about her abilities.

"It can't really be decided before the Sorting, 'Elena. He could feel right at home in Hufflepuff too." Beccs said. Tom concluded that this girl belonged to the Hufflepuff house. From what he had read from the few pages of a book called 'Hogwarts: A History' at the bookstore stands, Hufflepuff was home to kind-hearted and loyal individuals. This girl was a proof of that and Tom knew for sure he would never be sorted in that house.

"Both sound equally amazing to me." Tom replied, not wanting to make either of them disheartened. His answer indeed made both of them smile at him. It really was so easy to charm girls, even if they were witches.

"So, how exactly does this Sorting take place?" Tom asked. He hadn't gotten to read about that before the shopkeeper had shooed him away.

"It's actually supposed to be a secret." Helena said. Tom had a feeling that she was a stickler for rules.

"Don't worry, dear. It will be a nice and wonderful experience." Beccs assured him. Tom knew that had the other girl not been present, he would've been able to manipulate the Hufflepuff into telling him about the Sorting. But he didn't press on. The Sorting definitely didn't sound like a test, if it was being described as a _nice and wonderful_ experience.

The train journey eventually came to an end and Tom, now clad in the Hogwarts robes, stepped out into a tiny, dark platform. Tom shivered in the cold night air.

"First years, this way please." A loud voice called.

Tom joined a small group of students gathered around a tall muscular man, all of the students were supposedly first years. Tom looked into the excited, happy faces of his would-be classmates.

"… twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. There's still one missing." The man supposed to be taking charge of the first-years muttered.

"Actually, it's thirty-one. You did not count me." came a clear, high voice.

Tom noticed that the same boy from the other compartment was leaning against a tree leading to a narrow path ahead. The boy looked quite awake now, dressed in his robes. He was ruffling his hair with a hand, either to straighten it or make it even messier Tom wasn't sure.

"Alright then, follow me. And don't stray from the path if you don't want to get killed." The man warned, before heading towards the narrow path.

The rest of the first years looked a bit subdued by the grumpy man's words, except for the strange boy. He simply looked... happy. The entire group of thirty-one students walked behind the man.

There was an audible gasp from the crowd when they all got their first glance at the Hogwarts' magnificent castle, a wide black lake in front of them. Even Tom's eyes were wide, looking at the impressive building that was going to be his home for the next seven years. The boy with strange green eyes was also watching the castle, with a rather emotional expression, Tom noted.

They were all told to occupy a boat with maximum four people in each of the boat. Tom accompanied three of his new classmates who seemed already familiar with each other and were happy to ignore Tom. Tom was happy to ignore them as well and instead he marveled at the self-rowing boats and admired the castle in silence. And in the next twenty minutes, they were all gathered inside the entrance hall awaiting the Deputy Headmaster as instructed by their escort, the gamekeeper.

Tom already knew who the Deputy Headmaster was and it seemed, he was fashionably late. That gave time for the students to make introductions among themselves. Tom was vaguely aware that the strange boy with unruly hair, had managed to find a quiet corner not far from himself and was successfully avoiding any conversation. A dark haired boy with stormy gray eyes approached Tom and held out his hand. He had a mischievous air about him.

"Alphard Black, from the Noble and most Ancient House of Black."

Tom shook the hand offered, but before he could ask what the boy more about his House, they were then interrupted by a loud girl.

"Really, Alphard! BLACK! _Now_ you remember the House you belong to! When it is easy for you to make connections, isn't that right?" The girl, clearly a relative, was scowling at the now subdued boy. They had begun catching attention from the rest of their classmates. Tom did not find the girl's voice pleasant at all, not to mention her tone.

"Ahem, I don't really care about your House. My name is Tom Riddle." Tom spoke to the boy, hoping to cheer him a bit. He had after all been the one who had first initiated a civil conversation with him.

The boy however, had only just managed to open his mouth when his relative cut him off; her screeching now directed at Tom.

" _Riddle?_ Never heard of that name before! You must be a half-blood, then. Or worse a _mudblood_!"

The way those words were spat left no doubt in Tom's mind that they were meant as an insult. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough knowledge about the customs of the wizarding world. He regretted even starting the conversation.

"Sorry about my sister, er Riddle. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Excuse us for a moment." Alphard Black said in an apologizing tone before dragging his sister off with him.

Coincidentally, at the exact moment Tom turned towards his right, and he caught himself looking straight into the most beautiful shade of green eyes he had ever seen. The boy that had caught his indirect attention from the time Tom had boarded the Hogwarts Express, was looking at him clearly in surprise. Tom wondered what brought that expression on his face, when the entrance hall fell silent and the Deputy Headmaster made his appearance known by a distinct cough. Tom tore his eyes away from the startling emerald ones and looked up at the professor.

When he finally arrived, Albus Dumbledore gave a little speech which was supposed to be about informing them of the houses and the rules and regulations. Tom, however wasn't fooled by his overly charming demeanor and judging by the cautious glances the teacher sent him, the man hadn't forgotten about their first encounter either.

"Ah, I see that all of you have arrived here in one piece, not that I had any doubts about it. Our caretaker, Mr. Pringles is more than capable individual. Easy to cross though, I warn you. Only if you are caught breaking any school rules."

Here he gave the students a sweeping glance, his eyes pausing on Tom a bit longer. Tom was just glad that he hadn't actually mentioned about his stealing habits in front of all of them, they all would have started hating him from the very first day.

"The rules will be explained by your heads of Houses in detail later or you can consult the list put up outside the caretaker's office. Now, speaking of Houses, there are four of them here at Hogwarts, each named after the four great founders of this school. Each of these Houses value certain attributes and provide the right environment for you to further your skills. For example, Gryffindor house mainly comprises of individuals who are brave and courageous. Ravenclaw has those who value wits and knowledge above all the other things. Hufflepuffs are kind-hearted individuals and fiercely loyal as well. While Slytherin house has ambitious and cunning students in abundance. I know that some of you are anxious about the Sorting, but be assured that an unbiased individual is going to put you in your right House."

The last statement, followed by a grandfatherly smile, was meant to comfort the students. But Tom got even more anxious wondering if the individual that Dumbledore was talking about was himself. Before he could follow that line of thought some more, Dumbledore started speaking again.

"Your House will be like your family while you are here. Hogwarts is after all a home away from home. Your competence will win your House points, while your carelessness may lead to their reduction. At the end of the year, the House Cup will be awarded to the House with the most points. Any one who wants to say something, speak now."

It seemed that Dumbledore was encouraging the students to ask their doubts, but one look at them told Tom that they were too nervous to voice their opinions. Just when Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again, a voice interrupted him.

"Nice choice of robes, professor. They rather compliment your hair and well … beard." The same boy who had caught Tom's attention again and again was the one speaking. He even heard some students snort at the obvious sarcasm behind these words. Tom himself was revolted by the orange robes that the professor was wearing which together with his auburn hair made him look even more flashy.

Dumbledore's expressions turned even more jovial but his sharp blue eyes showed that he was evaluating the young boy who was casually leaning against a pillar, a picture of leisure.

"Why, thank you, my boy. I must admit, no one has ever complimented me for this particular color." Dumbledore said, his blue eyes fixed on the carefree boy.

"Well, I think I can see the resemblance with Godric Gryffindor himself, professor. You are but short of his famous sword." The boy replied nonchalantly. Tom wondered whether the boy had purposely ruffled his hair or it was naturally so unruly.

Dumbledore chuckled at his reply.

"I expect to see you in the House of Gryffindor himself then, young man. I must say you'll fit right in, I myself am a proud Gryffindor."

"Oh, I don't know, professor. The Sorting is done by an _unbiased individual_ after all." The boy smirked, as if he was just remembering an inside joke.

"Now, form a line and please follow me inside. The rest of the school is waiting for us." Dumbledore called to the rest of them, not before giving the boy an intrigued last glance.

Tom was amazed once again when he looked up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, which according to the book 'Hogwarts, A History', was charmed by magic to look exactly like the sky outside. The Hall was bustling with the chattering older students, who were no doubt, busy catching up with each other. The students were seated among four long tables, and judging by the different colored banners handing above them, they were all of different Houses. There were torches lit on the walls and a number of candles were floating above the tables, covering the Hall in a golden light. There was another table at the top of the Hall, where teachers and the Headmaster were seated, facing the students. The Hall certainly did justice to Tom's expectations of a magical school.

Tom noticed Dumbledore slipping inside a small door, and wondered if he was going to call the 'judge' he had mentioned. Tom took a deep breath and braced himself for the Sorting.

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 **Don't forget to leave your feedback!**


	3. Getting Sorted

**Special mention to Gurgaraneth and gginsc for writing such encouraging reviews. I hope to not disappoint your expectations.**

 **Please forgive the Hat's song. Since I'm not exactly good at poetry, it didn't come out that well. I've also included most of the names and houses of the first-year students. Since the chapter is written in Tom's POV, and I imagine him to be an excellent observer with a brilliant mind, he absorbs in all the details.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Getting Sorted**

The judge, it turned out was an old and battered looking ancient hat. Dumbledore had placed it on a four legged stool in front of the teachers' Table. Tom began wondering what was about to happen, when the Hall suddenly turned silent and everyone started staring at the Hat. After a few seconds, Tom found out it was to hear the Hat's song.

A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing:

"Welcome, welcome to yet another year,

to fill your minds with the magic you still lack,

for I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts,

here to put you with your true pack.

I may seem patched and frayed,

for I have survived through years hundreds,

and all the witches and wizards of worth,

have each passed me through their heads.

So doubt me not! And put me on,

The Founders have gifted me thus,

I can discover where you belong

without any unnecessary fuss.

Slytherin favored cunning and ambitious,

Gryffindor preferred courage and chivalry over royalty,

Ravenclaw valued wit and learning,

while Hufflepuff, those with patience and loyalty.

All the four Founders were extraordinary,

all with their own magical powers, but different mind,

Now, put me on so I can place you,

among those most similar to your own kind."

The song was followed by an applause and Tom joined in, more from the relief that he were not here to be judged by any individual based on the previous acts done by them. Tom had dutifully returned all the things he had stolen from his peers back at the orphanage after the stern warning given to him by the Deputy Headmaster. In his eyes, the importance of attending a school of magic far outweighed some random trinkets. He hadn't apologized for his actions though, but had made sure the things made it to their owners inconspicuously.

Dumbledore took out a sheet of parchment from his robes and said to them, "As I call your name, you'll come forward and put the Sorting Hat on and then we shall wait its judgement."

"Abbot Henry."

A nervous blond boy came forward and put the Hat on. Tom was just glad to not be the first one to try the Hat. There was a few seconds pause and then the Hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The boy, Henry was smiling as he joined the table at the left corner, and was greeted by an applause and cheering as he arrived. Tom also saw the kind girl from his compartment greeting the new Hufflepuff. His attention was on Dumbledore again, as he called, "Avery Caspian."

"SLYTHERIN!" called the Hat.

Tom couldn't help but wonder how the Hat made its decision. His attention was caught at the next name, "Black Alphard."

The Hat took a full minute before it shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Next came, "Black Walburga."

So, the screeching girl did have a name. And it sounded as terrible as her voice. Tom couldn't help wishing that the Hat declare her invalid to attend at all. She was a risk to the rest of the students, after all. But Tom's wishful thinking did not yield any result as the Hat shouted for the third time in a row, "SLYTHERIN!"

Tom noted that the Slytherin table, at the right end of the Hall, were the most poised table of all. They even clapped in a composed and polite manner and Tom wished he would be a part of them.

Next, "Bones Irene" became a Hufflepuff, and "Brown Joseph" was the first Gryffindor. The second table from the left burst into loud cheers and applause. The brown haired boy was enveloped into hugs when he reached there. The Gryffindors seemed a bit too loud and rowdy for Tom's tastes.

"Burke Peter" and "Collins Rose" became Ravenclaws, "Davis Walter" a Hufflepuff and "Fawley Emilia" a Slytherin, and "Fisher Edna" a Hufflepuff.

"Fox Willie" and "Greengrass Daniel" became Ravenclaws, while "Hopkins Anthony" was made a Hufflepuff. These three were the boys that had sat with Tom on the boat, he recalled.

Tom waited patiently for his turn as he listened to the other students getting sorted. "Johnson Albert" was sorted into Gryffindor, "King Anna" into Hufflepuff, "Lee Elizabeth" Gryffindor again, "Lestrange Anthony" into Slytherin, "Macmillan Kenneth" into Hufflepuff again, and "MacGonagall Raymond" into Gryffindor.

There were now only a few students left unsorted and the messy haired boy was now standing right behind him. Just for a fleeting moment Tom thought about making introductions but then concluded that he would know his name soon enough.

"Malfoy Abraxas." called Dumbledore.

A blond boy made his way towards the stool, and Tom heard a faint muttering from behind him, "Definitely Slytherin!"

The Hat seemed to barely touch the blond's head when it shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Tom wondered whether any more muttered predictions would come his way, but he was disappointed.

Next, "McGlen Louise" was announced Gryffindor. "Patil Subhash" and "Perkins Andrew" were declared Ravenclaws.

"Peverell Harrison."

Tom felt the boy behind him move and saw him walk leisurely towards the stool. There were whispers breaking out among the students and even Dumbledore looked intrigued, judging by the strange gleam in his eyes as he watched the boy put the Hat over his head.

"Peverell, did he say?"

" _The_ Peverell? Did I hear that right?"

"Wonder which house he'll be in."

"I thought they were all dead."

"Wow, Peverell? Who would've thought?"

The hushed whispers were getting louder by the minute, specially from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. The Hat however, was taking its own time. After five minutes went by, there were more whispers, this time about "hatstall" and Tom started doubting when his turn would finally come.

Finally, the Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Peverell was grinning, as if he'd just had a pleasant conversation and strolled over to the Slytherin table. He was getting the loudest claps, surprisingly even from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Dumbledore looked visibly disappointed as he called out the next name, "Prewett Christopher" who became Gryffindor.

"Riddle Tom."

Tom made his way confidently over to the stool and put the Hat over his head. And then he heard the Hat speak to him inside his head.

" _Interesting. A thirst for knowledge,_ _I see. And yet, it persists solely for power. You are loyal, but only to yourself. You are also least likely to jump into a dangerous battle when you are even an ounce unsure of your success. Power, yes you crave power and will do everything to make yourself great. There's only one House for you, but I do warn you of the challenges that lie ahead of you; rewrite your history in the House of "_ SLYTHERIN!"

The last bit was spoken aloud to the rest of the Hall, and Tom dropped the Hat back onto the stool in a haze.

He didn't hear the next name being called, as Tom walked towards the Slytherin table midst a mild applause. The only seat left was opposite Harrison Peverell who'd been sorted a few minutes ago.

Tom silently sank into his seat and watched as the last four students were sorted into Ravenclaw and Gryffindor evenly. Finally, Dumbledore left the Hall, carrying the Sorting Hat with the stool floating behind him.

Then a wizened, frail looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, which Tom assumed was the Headmaster judging by his High Chair, stood and addressed them.

"Welcome students, to another school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope by the end of the year, we would all leave gaining much more magical knowledge than we currently possess. It's now time for the Welcome Feast to start."

And soon enough, the empty table was filled with golden plates containing a variety of mouth-watering food items. Tom had never this amount of food, specially of this fine quality before. The other students had already started eating, as if they had all been used to feasts like this before, while Tom hesitantly chose a little bit of all the items and put them in his plate. He glanced up to find the emerald eyes were on him. The other boy didn't exactly say anything but nodded towards his plate, encouraging him to start eating before anyone else noticed. Tom did exactly that, and found that everything was quite delicious.

Before the Feast ended, another scare had arrived in the form of ghosts. Pearly white and slightly transparent, they glided across the Hall and settled around every House Table. The ghost who had chosen the Slytherin table was a horrible looking ghost, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. For some reason, the ghost had chosen to sit beside Tom himself. He wasn't speaking to anyone unlike the other ghosts who Tom could see talking with the students.

Harrison Peverell, it seemed took it as a personal challenge to talk with the ghost. Tom was already beginning to think that the boy's mind worked opposite to the logical way.

"Hello, my name is Harrison. But, you can also call me Harry. I've just been sorted into Slytherin." the boy started.

The ghost merely nodded his way, and then continued staring blankly at the wall opposite him. But, Harrison or Harry was hardly deterred.

"You are the Slytherin ghost, aren't you? Were you in Slytherin yourself while you attended Hogwarts? You did attend Hogwarts, didn't you?" Harrison queried.

This time, he earned a stern look from the ghost.

A senior student then called to them, "It's better if you abandon your attempts at any conversation with him; the Bloody Baron doesn't like to talk with us students."

"Is that so? Well, that doesn't mean _I_ can't talk to _him."_ Harrison replied cheekily.

"Well, suit yourself then." the older boy shot back, clearly amused.

Harrison had once again turned to the ghost. "So Mr. Baron, exactly how old are you?"

The ghost gave the boy another blank look, before getting back to the wall.

"Do you only talk to the other ghosts?" the boy inquired again.

"Yes." Tom was surprised to hear the deep baritone of the ghost when he finally answered.

"So, you _can_ talk! That's encouraging, I say!" the happiness in Harrison's voice was as evident as the disbelieving glare the ghost was giving him.

"Were you really a Baron in your time? What exactly did the Barons do?"

The boy had garnered quite a bit of attention at the usually stoic Slytherin table. The first years were especially staring at him like he was an odd thing, and even Tom didn't disagree.

"You know, he looks quite a bit scary." A blond boy, Malfoy, Tom recalled, quipped.

"Of course, he does. He _is_ covered in blood after all. You are Abraxas Malfoy, right?" Harrison asked.

"Yes, and you are Harrison Peverell. And here we all thought the Peverell line had died out." Malfoy stated. Ah, Malfoy was fishing for information on the Peverell family.

"Well, it hasn't. But unfortunately, I am the last one left of the Peverell family." Harrison replied. He didn't look very disappointed at all as if the news was old for him.

"Oh." was all Malfoy said, before returning to his plate.

"Are you sure the Hat placed you in the correct house? You took the longest time over there, Peverell." Alphard Black piped in.

"Actually Black, the Hat was pretty adamant about me being in Slytherin House." Harrison replied, smirking at an inside joke.

"Then what took you so long?" Walburga it seemed, couldn't resist asking.

"Oh, we were just talking, Miss Black." Harrison replied playfully, and Tom was pretty sure he had said that simply to intrigue the girl further. And just like that, his attention was back to the ghost. "Have you considered a change of clothes, Mr. Baron? Can a ghost even change his clothes?"

The conversations were put to an end as the Headmaster rose again and the plates vanished, signaling the end of the feast. Tom swore he felt the ghost beside him take a sigh of relief.

The same older student who had tried to warn Harrison about the ghost, approached the first years after.

"First year students, I am Adrian Nott, a fifth year prefect. Since you all don't know the way to the Common Room, please follow me and do try to keep up. I'll not waste my time looking for you if you manage to get lost."

Tom immediately got up and was quick to fall behind the prefect. He could see that Harrison was still at the table trying to talk to the unresponsive ghost. Well, the boy was trouble for sure.

Tom had a hard time trying to commit to his memory the route they were heading. They were led through the corridors with talking portraits who pointed and commented when they passed, down the marble staircase and then through torch lit dungeons with endless turns. Finally, the prefect paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. There was a barely visible sculpture of a snake at the top of the wall.

"The door opens with a password; be sure to check the notice board in the common room as they are changed every month. This month's password is: Acromantula!" the prefect told them.

A stone door concealed in the wall slid open. The prefect marched through it, and Tom as well the rest of his housemates followed him.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several older Slytherins were already silhouetted around it in high backed chairs.

"Well, now that all of you are here-" the prefect started.

"Peverell is not here." Walburga Black was quick to interrupt in her shrill unpleasant voice. It seemed she hadn't taken Harrison's words lightly at the feast. Tom noted he wouldn't like to cross that girl in future if it was avoidable.

"He is. Now." came the hurried voice of Harrison from behind them. Tom could tell that the boy had been sprinting, judging by the sweat and the heavy breaths.

"Okay." The prefect spoke, sternly. "The first rule of Slytherin: ' _Neve_ r rat on your fellow Slytherins. Especially in front of the prefects and teachers, who can take away the house points that are hard earned by your housemates." Here, he eyed the female Black, who was finally looking subdued at getting the brunt.

"Second rule:" Here, the prefect turned to Harrison. " _Never_ get caught. That also results in the reduction of House points. We take the House Cup quite seriously here in Slytherin. It emphasizes our superiority over the other Houses. You would all do well to remember that."

"Don't lose your House any points and try to earn as much as you can. Among the teachers, Dumbledore tends to favor Gryffindors a bit, so try not to antagonize him. Now that it's clear, the boys dormitory is at the right and the girls through the left. Any other questions?" the prefect looked around them.

"Well, if you do need any guidance, you can approach the prefects; they will have the same badge as me. The Head of our House is Professor Slughorn; he teaches Potions." With that, the prefect left them to themselves.

"Well that was quite the welcome." Harrison muttered.

"Peverell, how did you get here? You _definitely_ weren't with us. I wouldn't have missed you by any chance." Alphard asked.

"Well, I just followed our House ghost. I have to warn you though, he is quite fast for his age." Harrison replied, which resulted in a laugh among the group.

"That was quite smart, actually." The second girl of their year beside Black commented.

"Well, I'm glad the lady approves." Harrison replied, giving the girl his full attention. Tom could see Walburga visibly sulking.

"Emilia Fawley." the girl introduced herself.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Fawley. Harrison Peverell, at your service." Harrison said, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Ah, it's good to see some manners here." Malfoy commented.

"What can I say Malfoy, I am quite charming." Harrison replied.

One of the boys, Caspian Avery, turned to Tom. "Hello, I am Caspian Avery."

Tom took his hand and said politely, "Tom Riddle."

He saw the faint shift of Avery's expression as well as Lestrange and Malfoy's.

"Hm, are you a half-blood then?" Lestrange was the one to speak as the others listened in.

"A half-blood?" Tom asked.

"It means one of your parents were magical." Fawley supplied helpfully.

"I wouldn't know. I grew up in an orphanage." If Tom had thought that this fact would garner some sympathy from his peers, he would've been completely wrong.

"A _muggle_ orphanage?" Walburga asked.

At Tom's nod, Malfoy sneered, "You must be a mudblood then. I don't know about the rest of you, but _I_ certainly am going to be as far from him as possible."

The rest of his classmates had equally appalled expressions, except Fawley who looked sympathetic which was worse for Tom, and Harrison. The boy looked over at his classmates' disgusted expressions and then he started laughing. The rest of them just stared at him dumbfounded, Tom included.

"So, you lot are condemning someone only because of their blood? Even when you are not really sure of his parentage? This behaviour is too foolish to be considered Slytherin; are you sure the Hat placed you here with a good reason?" Harrison was saying. They had now begun catching the attention of a few older students by now.

"Peverell, are you barking mad? We are not the ones who is acting foolish here." Avery spoke, clearly taking the insult at heart.

"Really? Think about it for a minute. Purebloods are mostly related to each other one way or another. What if Riddle here turns out to be related to you?" Harrison asked.

"How was he left in the muggle world, then? If he was related to a Pureblood family, they would've gone for him. Maybe, he was the one who was sorted in Slytherin by mistake. After all, Salazar Slytherin never approved of filthy mudbloods." Lestrange said, with an expression that clearly showed that he was challenging Harrison to prove him wrong.

"Ah, and you think Salazar Slytherin would approve of you? Let's have a test then, shall we?" Harrison said, before taking out his wand and pointing it at Lestrange. Tom watched Lestrange taking out his own wand.

Tom noted that many of the older students were watching the proceedings but none of them tried to put a stop to them.

"Been dying to try this one out." Harrison said, before muttering, " _Serpensortia!_ "

The end of his wand exploded and a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the first years backed swiftly away, clearing the space between Harrison and Lestrange.

Anthony Lestrange, who had appeared quite confident till now, was staring at the angry snake, all color drained out of his face.

"Too bad, I don't remember the spell to vanish it." Harrison said, smirking at the pale face of Lestrange.

And then, the green eyes fell on Tom, as if encouraging him to do something. Tom heard the angry hiss from the snake and realized what he needed to do. The green eyes had taken a knowing glint.

Tom turned his attention to the snake who was not far from the still form of Lestrange. He half wished to leave the boy at the snake's mercy but then decided to save his life and take the chance Harrison had apparently offered.

" _Lleave the bboy alonee."_ Tom hissed. The snake turned to look directly in his eyes, surprised.

" _Speaker?"_

" _Yess...I am..."_

Tom felt the eyes of every single person in the room on him as the snake slithered closer to him.

" _May I have any other human?"_

" _No...I'm ssorry, but all of them are under protection."_

The snake let out an annoyed hiss. There were audible gasps of surprise from the audience and Tom turned to see the shocked faces directed at him. All but Harrison. He just had a small satisfied smile on his face.

"Well, the fun is now over." Peverell called, before waving his wand at the snake. "Evanesco."

The snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. And then, all the hell broke lose.

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	4. Classes at Hogwarts

**Chapter 4: Classes at Hogwarts**

Tom woke up quite early the next morning, just like he always did. He became aware of the unfamiliar yet comfortable bed he was in, and then the previous day's events passed through his mind. It was quite surreal how so much had changed in a single day. He carefully pulled his green velvet curtains to reveal a messy haired boy sleeping peacefully in the adjacent bed. Well, at least he hadn't been dreaming, Tom thought.

Last night, he had found out that his ability to talk to snakes was what made him special in the eyes of his new housemates. The language itself had a name, 'Parseltongue' and according to some students, the Founder of their House, Salazar Slytherin was also a Parselmouth. They had also informed him that the ability was genetic and that it proved that Tom himself was an heir to the Slytherin line. The line had been believed to have died out long ago, not unlike the Peverell line and that being a Parselmouth was proof enough that he was an heir. The title practically made him a royalty among his Housemates, without having to do anything. And here Tom had been thinking about earning their respect through his brilliance and prowess.

Harrison Peverell, the boy who somehow had found a way into his thoughts even before Tom had properly met him, was sleeping blissfully. The boy looked completely unaware of the whirlwind he had caused in Tom's mind. He seemed to have moved his curtains during the night, giving Tom a clear view of his careless features, his jet black hair seeming to point in all the directions possible. Even through the window of their shared dormitory that had a view of the underwater lake outside, the sunlight had managed to seep in to give the room a faint glow. The rest of the three Slytherin first-years were all sound asleep. It seemed that proper magical families loved to spoil their children.

Tom heaved a sigh; he had confronted Peverell last night, or rather tried to. After the fiasco in the common room which had resulted in the complete change of views of his housemates of him, and Tom suspected it was the direct result of Peverell's actions, he had cornered the boy after they had got into their common room. In the uproar that had resulted after Tom's special ability got out, Peverell had slipped away quietly and was comfortably settled in his bed by the time Tom had manged to reach there.

"Peverell, a word?" he had said to the boy, and the said boy in question had seemed amused by his approach.

"Ah, the Heir of Slytherin himself! Who am I to deny your wish?" Peverell had mock saluted him, and somehow it cemented Tom's belief that it was his play all along.

"Did you _know_? How _did_ you know that I could talk to the snakes? I haven't even met you before tonight." Tom had demanded, as was his right to.

The emerald eyes gave him a strange look and after a moment they were on the wall behind him; the boy had shrugged, "I don't know what you are implying. If anything, you should thank Lestrange for tonight's events. I'm quite sure he'll be positively delighted by your attention."

Tom knew that he wouldn't be getting any answers from the boy tonight and he had tried hard to keep his frustration buried. He understood well enough that right then, it would be foolish to make this boy his enemy and Tom was anything but foolish. So he had offered him his hand. "We haven't been introduced properly. I am Tom Riddle."

Peverell had looked at his hand with obvious suspicion for a fleeting second before he shook it. "Riddle. Hm, it does suit you so well. I'm sure you already know my name."

Tom nodded. This boy was really a mystery to him, and Tom was sure that there was some secret that he was holding in those not so innocent green eyes.

"Are you comfortable with the bed arrangements, Riddle? We have been made neighbors." Peverell asked.

Their trunks had already been brought back and were kept beside the beds. Tom and Peverell's were placed adjacent while the other four beds were on the opposite side of the dormitory. The other boys had been plaguing him with all kinds of questions since they had entered their own dormitory and Tom was sure he wouldn't really have to worry about his personal space with Peverell so he decided it was the best option available to him. Besides, he would also get the chance to unravel the mystery of this boy.

"Alright by me, Peverell. As long as you don't interfere in my affairs." Tom stated, just to be clear.

Peverell gave him an amused look and shot back. "Wasn't really planning on it. But hey, the same goes both ways. I won't meddle in your affairs, as long as you keep out of mine."

Tom had nodded and the deal was formed. It appeared that Peverell was a private individual just like he was. Although Tom wasn't too happy to find a similarity with the boy, he would respect the deal. Well, as long as he accessed whether this Peverell was a threat or not.

It was almost ten minutes later, that Tom realized that he had been staring at his dorm mate for too long. He wasn't exactly the type of person who wasted his time for nothing so he moved his attention towards making his bed, and getting ready for the day. It was the first day of the classes and Tom wasn't going to be late for anything.

They were all seated at their House table, having their breakfast meal when a professor with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and gingery-blond mustache made his way towards them with a stack of parchments. Tom almost took a sigh of relief that he had remembered to warn his housemates not to tell a soul outside their common room about his heritage and they had all agreed to his command, surprisingly even the seniors.

The parchments turned out to be their class time-tables and the wizard turned out to be their Head of House, Professor Horace Slughorn. He went around distributing the sheets and didn't even notice Lestrange handing his to Tom first who was further down the table. Glad that the professor was too self-absorbed to notice Lestrange's worshipping look and mentally noting that he needed to put a stop to Lestrange's public display of loyalty, Tom took his own time-table and glanced at it.

The first-years had seven subjects in total; Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Defense against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Herbology and Astronomy. The classes were to be shared among two Houses. Tom noted that they had two classes each with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and three with the Ravenclaws. All in all, he was satisfied, as the Ravenclaws seemed to be the smartest of them all. What made him uneasy was the time for the Astronomy class; but then they couldn't possibly study the stars in the daylight.

"We have Transfiguration first, with Professor Dumbledore." Malfoy commented, looking at Tom for his thoughts.

Tom knew that it was always going to be like this from now on; the rest of them looking up to him to lead the way. Well, all except Peverell. His attention was solely focused on his food; the time-table lying forgotten under his plate. Tom chose to focus on the four eager faces turned to him and said, "Remember what the Prefect said last night, we shouldn't give the professor any chance to deduct our House points."

The other three nodded and when Tom went back to his food, they did the same. Tom had noticed that Black was now keeping quiet, unlike his true nature which Tom suspected was the very opposite of quiet. Still, Tom chose not to comment on it. Not long after that, the same prefect who had led them to their Common Room last night, came to them.

"As you probably don't know the way to your classrooms yet, I'll direct you to them for today. Now, inform me when you have all finished with your breakfast."

With that, Prefect Nott gave Tom a nervous glance and sat down beside Peverell. It made Tom realize how much special his heritage was, if even the seniors were giving him such respect. Tom was aware that now he had to live up to his housemates' great expectations even if he was sure that he would handle it easily enough.

"Don't think I didn't notice that the spell you used last night was an O.W.L. level transfiguration spell. Even _I_ haven't been taught that in class yet." Nott whispered quietly to Peverell. Tom glanced around to find that only he and Peverell were able to hear the Prefect's words. However, Tom pretended to look at his food all the while his ears were trained at the conversation happening at the opposite side of the table.

"Is that so? Well, my guardian taught me that spell. Didn't know it was that much of a deal." Peverell shrugged.

"It's not exactly easy to master. And since you aren't even supposed to hold a wand correctly yet, I'd say that your performance was commendable. Brilliant, even." Nott went on, undeterred by Peverell's lack of interest.

Tom's ears perked up at the praise and he felt a slight pang of jealousy. He decided then that he would work hard, so hard that even Peverell would not be a match for him.

But Peverell, it seemed, was unaffected by the praise he was receiving. He simply replied with a tight smile, "The credit goes to my teacher, then."

The other first-years had now finished with their breakfast; and even Nott seemed to notice that. He leaned towards Peverell one last time, before getting up and ordering them to follow. "Anyway, you'll find that 'Vipera Evanesca' works better than 'Evanesco' when you untransfigure a snake."

Peverell smiled at the tip and his eyes seemed lost for a moment, and Tom wasn't sure whether it were the Prefect's words or some memory which had brought that smile.

The transfiguration class was being shared with Ravenclaws. The subject was being taught by Professor Albus Dumbledore, much to Tom's annoyance. Tom was positive that the professor didn't trust him and was keeping an eye on him. He was proved right by the careful glances the teacher had sent during the lesson and also the professor had paused for a bit after taking Tom's name at the roll call. Although, Tom wasn't the only one on Dumbledore's radar, Peverell was too. But on a completely different note than him.

"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branch of magic you'll come across here at Hogwarts. The key here is focus and concentration. Once you have mastered the art, you can do the most impressive things possible." Dumbledore said, while his blue eyes traveled along the students' faces.

A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss?" Dumbledore enquired, in his welcoming voice.

"Lucille Rowle, sir. Sorry to interrupt, professor. But your last line seemed a bit vague. Could you elaborate on that?"

"Ah, Transfiguration can help you accomplish many a great things, Miss Rowle. There's only one restriction; your own imagination and willpower." Dumbledore replied, magnanimously.

Tom himself thought that his elaboration too seemed quite vague, and judging by the confused expression on the Ravenclaw's face, she thought the same. Dumbledore chose that moment to show them a practical demonstration.

He turned his wand towards his teacher's desk and in a blink of an eye, it was replaced with a silvery white unicorn. Tom as well as the rest of the students were quite impressed and some girls even swooned at how beautiful the creature was. The unicorn itself was a bit terrified at the curious crowd of the students and Dumbledore changed it back into the desk. It was an impressive display of magic and Tom would have been more impressed, if he hadn't seen Peverell making a live snake appear out of nothing just last night.

They were then made to take some notes, which were quite complicated in themselves, given Dumbledore's way with words. And then, they were all given a piece of matchstick and were told to turn it into a needle.

If Tom had thought he would get it right in his first try, he was wrong. The task wasn't exactly as easy as it appeared. His match had changed its color on the next few tries and Tom felt a bit more confident. He tried to look around for Peverell, but it seemed he had chosen the last bench for the class which was way out of his sight. Dumbledore was making rounds around the classroom, commenting on the right way to perform the transfiguration. He did not comment when he passed Tom's desk.

"Ah, well done Mr. Peverell. That is possibly the least amount of time a student has taken to get a perfect needle in the very first class. Twenty points to Slytherin!" Dumbledore's voice loomed across the classroom. Tom noted that nearly all of the Ravenclaws were giving Peverell a wistful look.

Tom doubled his focus on his silver match and was rewarded with the result soon enough. Dumbledore, however had chosen to ignore his performance in favor of assisting the Ravenclaws. Finally, the double period ended and they were free till after the lunch. The other Slytherins flocked to him at the end of the class and Tom told them to go back to their common room, while he himself planned to visit the library. He did notice the Ravenclaws had all gone over to Peverell's desk with Rowle in the lead, no doubt planning on pestering him to give them some tips with the lesson.

The next lesson was Herbology, which was taught by a witch named Phyllida Spore who was also the Head of Hufflepuff House, the same whose students they were sharing the class with. Tom wasn't particularly impressed by the class, which turned out to be similar to gardening in muggle world. Yet, he did realize the value of the magical plants when the professor told them of the healing potions they were used in. Also, the Whomping Willow tree specimen looked particularly nasty to not know about.

Astronomy classes were held on the highest tower at midnight and Tom was grateful they only occurred once a week. They shared the class with the Ravenclaws and Tom was thankful that it wasn't with the Gryffindors. As Tom had experienced in his classes with them, they were always too eager to stir up some trouble or the other. The Astronomy professor was a strict wizard in his early thirties who had threatened them to throw anyone off the tower who didn't listen to him, and Tom doubted he had only been threatening.

Their Head of House taught Potions, which they shared with the rowdy Gryffindors. Even though Tom didn't like them very much, unlike his other three fellow Slytherins, he didn't outright show it. Professor Slughorn turned out to be a competent enough teacher, when he wasn't focusing on grilling the students about their backgrounds. Tom found that he liked the subject of Potions, since it required a certain level of discipline and tested his patience. Some of the Gryffindors had never learnt to be patient in all their lives which resulted in frequent explosions throughout their Potions class.

Professor Slughorn had however pestered Peverell enough for him to reveal that his parents were long dead and that he lived with his godfather. The Professor had expressed his sympathies and in the very next sentence had gone on to speculate that he would be the sole Heir to the ancient line of Peverell when he came of age. If Peverell found the professor's words insensitive, he did not voice his opinion and chose to concentrate on his work, which Slughorn announced at the end of class was 'simply perfect!' as compared to his just 'wonderful'. It was then that Tom resented his decision to keep Slughorn in the dark about his heritage.

Tom's favorite class turned out to be Defence against the Dark Arts. It was taught by an old witch who introduced herself as Professor Galatea Merrythought. She had been in the training program for the Aurors but had left the service after a couple of years later in favor of teaching. She described in intricate detail how the wizards duelled and even reminisced her training days. They were partnered with the students of the opposite house which turned out to be Gryffindors and were taught the disarming spell. The Gryffindors proved to be a lot better at duelling than they were at Potions; although Tom managed to disarm his partner Albert Johnson, in his very first try.

Charms was taught by a young French wizard called Louis Delacour. He did like to talk quite a lot about his home country and its beauty which he sorely missed but he seemed to know his subject well. The subject required a bit of theory in the beginning although Tom was intrigued by the charms the professor had demonstrated. The class was shared with the Ravenclaws and made for quite interesting debates regarding the magical theory.

If there was any class in which Harrison Peverell was not good at, it was the History of Magic, which was taught by an old wizard called Cuthbert Binns. Tom could not blame Peverell when he had fallen asleep in their very first History class while the professor droned on about goblin wars in a most boring voice. In fact, by the end of the lesson, only Tom seemed to be the one paying attention to the professor's words. The Hufflepuffs had been talking among themselves since the middle of the lesson but the professor hadn't paid them any attention, not even to quieten them.

The first week was over quite soon and Tom was now feeling right at home at Hogwarts. He was learning magic in a school full of magical students, some of whom actually seemed to treat him as someone important. He did however think how different his first week would have turned out if Harrison Peverell hadn't come to his defense that very first night. Even though Peverell wanted to deny it, Tom knew that the boy was responsible for the events that followed.

Tom had been observing the Peverell Heir quietly but the boy hadn't slipped anything yet that could tell Tom more about him. The boy never tried to gain attention in class to himself, though Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn always seemed eager to drag him to the limelight. In the rest of the lessons, he mostly kept to himself, and his work was always perfect. The Ravenclaws were now on talking terms with him ever since he had helped them with Transfiguration. Even among his own House, he seemed comfortable with his own company. He did talk amicably to everyone who approached him, but he never made any friends. Lestrange was the only one who seemed wary of Peverell; the boy hadn't exactly forgotten how Peverell had set a snake on him. Walburga Black too seemed to be of similar opinion, although she was now wary of voicing her opinions of him aloud in public. When Tom had asked Alphard about it, he found out it had something to do with a letter they had received from their parents.

It had only been one week into the term, and Tom was confident he would solve the puzzle named Harrison Peverell soon enough.

He was wrong.

* * *

 **Your thoughts?**


	5. Hufflepuffs and Halloween

**Chapter 5: Hufflepuffs and Halloween**

The highlight of the second week of the term came in the form of a notice pinned at the common room. It informed the first-years that flying lessons were going to be conducted for them on Wednesday; the Slytherins were to be paired with the Hufflepuffs.

The rest of the Slytherins, that is Malfoy, Lestrange, Avery and even Black were all very excited about the prospect of flying. When Tom had asked about the reason they had launched into quite lengthy descriptions of a magical game called Quidditch which was supposed to be a game of flying balls and hoops played on broomsticks. It had seven players each, which consisted of three Chasers, who tried to put a ball called Quaffle through the opposite team's hoops to score points. And then there was a keeper, who protected his team's three hoops from the Quaffle. There were two Beaters who used another ball called Bludgers and used a bat to swing it at the opposite team's players in order to interrupt them or injure them. Then the last one was a Seeker whose job was to search for yet another ball which was called the golden Snitch and whoever caught the golden ball earned his team, a hundred and fifty points and the game ended.

To Tom, the game was just another pastime for people who had enough time to spare. He was however, a bit intrigued by the idea of flying even if he did doubt the reliability of broomsticks. Tom was never the one to trust anything risky like a broomstick with his life. So, he wasn't among those anticipating the flying lesson.

The flying instructor turned out to be a strict looking witch named Gwendoline Jones. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were told to stand in a line facing each other.

"Good thing the Hogwarts Board has tried to keep its broomsticks updated." Madam Jones began and with a wave of her hands, several broomsticks were flying out of the sheds and settled in front of each student.

"Now, all of you will stand by your broomstick. Hurry up!" she barked.

Tom, as well as the rest of the students, followed suit. He noted that the broomstick beside him looked a bit older than the one in front of him.

"Now, put your right hand above the broom and say, "UP!"". She instructed.

Tom did as he was instructed but the broomstick simply twitched and stayed where it was, on the ground. Several of the Slytherins had managed to get hold of their broomsticks at the very first try, Peverell among them. Tom felt utterly displeased, more with the broomstick than himself.

"Don't doubt the broomsticks. Be confident and say 'UP!', there you go!" Madam Jones told a stricken Hufflepuff. After a few minutes, all the students had the broomsticks in their hands.

"Now, I'll show you how to hold them properly." She said, and went from student to student, instructing them personally. Even then, some of the Hufflepuffs didn't look confident at all while they held the brooms.

"Good, now when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Jones. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But it seemed one Hufflepuff student's broom had taken off on its own. The boy had begun screaming when his broom had reached almost ten feet above the ground and it was still rising up. At about twenty feet, he slipped from his broom and plummeted towards the ground, among the terrified screams of "Walter!" from his housemates.

The instructor herself had frozen, and was blankly staring at the falling student. And then, Harrison Peverell had taken out his wand and pointing it at Walter, he shouted, "Arresto Momentum!"

Walter seemed to slow down in his fall and when he finally hit the ground, he only seemed to have strained his wrist. He looked up at Peverell and managed to mutter his thanks.

Peverell merely shrugged and said, "No problem Walter, I've fallen off of brooms enough times to know that spell." But the rest of the Hufflepuffs didn't let that slide so easily and they all were soon gathered around him and telling him how he had saved their housemate's life.

The commotion finally brought the instructor back to her senses, who muttered, "That has never happened before!" And then, she proceeded to cancel the class and escort Walter to the infirmary.

September soon passed and October flew away between the classes and Tom's futile research into his lost family. He hadn't had any success yet, but he was persevered enough to never stray from his goal. Tom had tried to find out about his last name since he was told that he was named after his father. His fellow Slytherins had told him about the famous wizard hospital, St. Mungo's. That had led him to the conclusion that his mother was not from a wizarding family since she hadn't gone to the hospital when he was born. Yet, till now Tom had not found a single mention of Riddle name anywhere.

It had been a relatively quiet evening and Tom had been enjoying an interesting book on magical theory when Avery had burst into the Common Room.

"Thank god, I found you all here. You won't believe what Peverell just did. He accepted a challenge from the Gryffindors for the Snitch. Four to one!" Avery almost screamed at them, before he ran off. Probably back to the Quidditch court, Tom thought.

Malfoy and Lestrange looked at Tom pleadingly and he inclined his head, telling them to go and do what they wished to. Black had already taken off after Avery, not really waiting for anything else. It seemed some of the older students had also picked up Avery's words.

"Interesting. Should we go and watch the game?" A fifth year was asking Nott, the prefect.

"If Peverell is involved, it would be worth it." Nott replied. Tom noted that the prefect still had his eyes on Peverell.

"Great, we should invite Yaxley too. He is mad about the game, Quidditch captain or not!"

"Of course, he would be all too happy to come along." Nott mused. And then, they too went off.

Tom had no wishes to witness any more broom accidents, although he did agree with Nott on Peverell. If Harrison Peverell was really involved, it would definitely be a good show. In the end however, Tom chose to spend his time reading his book rather than watching people showing off their flying skills.

It was only at dinner that Tom saw those Slytherins again. However, this time they were all whispering excitedly among themselves with a very exaspareted looking Peverell right in the center of the group. Tom would've felt bad for the boy, had Peverell not brought this all up on himself.

When Peverell spotted Tom sitting far away from the commotion, he hurried over to sit beside him.

"You know that you can't avoid them forever, don' you?" Tom couldn't resist saying with a smug smile. He knew his words were likely to aggravate Peverell.

"Riddle. All I want is to have a quiet dinner, you know. Flying is a tiring thing for those who can, after all." Peverell smirked, before turning his attention to the plate.

Tom couldn't help feeling stung by this retort about him not being able to fly well. This boy certainly knew how to test his limited patience. One glance towards the end of the table brought him back to his satisfied self.

"Good luck having a _quiet_ dinner, Peverell. Here they come." Tom said. It had the expected result of Peverell turning his head sharply towards the approaching forms of their year mates.

Peverell ran his hands through his hair, tousling it further before he turned to Riddle. "Can't you at least order them to keep their mouths closed for the dinner?"

Tom heard the challenge behind those words which had him narrowing his eyes. Was Peverell really doubting his position as the leader of Slytherins?

As soon as the group of four Slytherins reached them, Peverell had raised his brow at Tom. Alphard had already seated himself on Peverell's side and started, "That was some cool flying there, Peverell. Looks like the captain is thinking about taking you on the House team." And true enough, Tom found that the elder Slytherin members were all gathered around the Captain Yaxley and they were deep in discussions.

"It'll be a huge thing if you get on the team. Do you guys know how much time has passed since a first year played on the House team?" Malfoy asked.

" _Fifty_ years. We know, Malfoy." Black shot back, rolling his eyes.

This finally got Peverell's attention. "Fifty years? Why does that not sound good!"

The others were looking at him like Peverell had gone mad, and Tom chose that moment to interrupt them. It wasn't like he was enjoying this ridiculous conversation anyway.

"I would appreciate it if we don't talk about Quidditch at dinner. You have the Common Room to show your enthusiasm, this is not the place." Tom said, annoyance evident in his voice.

The boys took the hint and Peverell shot him a satisfied smile, not the grateful one he had been expecting. Did he just play right into Peverell's hands or did the boy have different reactions to everything.

Peverell was cornered again, once they reached the Common Room, this time by the senior members of the House.

"You have to try out for the team tryouts, Peverell. Be on the grounds on Wednesday evening at six." Yaxley told him.

Peverell simply looked annoyed. "Really, do I have to?"

Yaxley gave him an unimpressed look. "Yes Peverell, you do. We can finally have a chance at the Quidditch Cup if you become our seeker. And with your flying skills, I won't be surprised if you make the team."

And then a seventh year prefect that Tom didn't know yet, came forward. "Do you know how difficult it's been for us to win the House Cup without winning the Quidditch Cup? It's our last year here and I want to see our House finally winning both the Cups. If it hadn't been for the N.E.W.T. exams, I would still be the captain of the team, and believe me, I would've Imperioed you if that's what it would take for you to get on the team."

"Duly noted, Harton!" Yaxley exclaimed, and both the senior boys continued to glare down at Peverell. If they had thought of scaring Peverell into agreeing, they were disappointed.

"Okay, I'll agree but there are some conditions." Peverell demanded defiantly, folding his hands on his chest.

"You are in no position to demand any _conditions_ , Peverell." Yaxley started, but Harton put a restricting hand on his shoulder. The current captain still respected the old one enough to back out.

"And what _are_ your conditions?" Harton asked in a clear voice, although Tom could sense the impatience in those words.

"I can take my time off of the practice sessions if and when I like, and no one will coerce me to attend the practice sessions." Peverell replied in the calm and confident voice that Tom was now too familiar with.

Yaxley wanted to say something to Peverell but Harton had increased his grip on the captain's shoulder and Yaxley stayed quiet. Harton then spoke, "That is quite a condition you demand, Peverell. And even before you have been selected into the team."

"Well, if I fail to get the snitch in any of the games, that condition becomes null and void." Peverell supplied cockily.

Yaxley now wore a triumphant expression, no doubt thinking that the seeker would have a strong motivation for playing his best. And even if he didn't, Yaxley would have the free reign on him. Harton however, looked impressed. He held out his hand for Peverell. "I finally do have some hope for the Cup; don't let me down. Welcome to the team, Peverell."

Peverell took his hand, and became a part of the Slytherin Quidditch team, which was made official on Wednesday.

After that incident, the Gryffindors of their year had started treating Peverell with a grudging respect and were often seen enjoying his company which mainly consisted of them laughing loudly at one of Peverell's jokes and playing card games. Peverell looked comfortable in their company as well, more so than he was with the Slytherins.

The magical theory had finally ended in Charms and now Professor Delacour was happily telling the class that they were going to perform their first practical charm, the levitation charm.

The incantation and the wand movement were needed to be quite precise and only when the professor was satisfied that they had learned the required movement, he invited them to try and levitate the feather they had been given. Tom had gotten it right on his same try and so had Peverell. The professor had given them both some points and then Tom watched Peverell point the Ravenclaws where they had gone wrong.

Tom reflected that somehow, without even meaning to, Harrison Peverell had now become a part of every House. The Slytherins all treated him with utmost respect, for his famous and honorable family name as well as his extraordinary flying skills. The boy was equally good in his classes and was always happy to lend a helping hand to those who approached him, which made him worthy of respect in the Ravenclaw House. The Hufflepuffs all but treated him as an honorary member of their own house since the day he had saved one of their own. Even the Gryffindors liked his company and Tom thought that Peverell behaved as much like a Gryffindor with them.

As for Tom, he had gained the allegiance of his own House and his other housemates treated him with utmost respect. Since Tom did not want to get Dumbledore's unwanted attention yet, he did not let the word out that he was the Heir of Slytherin. All in all, Tom was satisfied by staying in the shadows of his own House for now.

Halloween came, and Tom noticed that Peverell was not pleased by the occasion. The boy never said anything to anybody about any problem and was trying to look his normal self but Tom, who was so used to observing him by now, knew immediately that something was wrong.

For starters, Peverell's face had fell momentarily when Black had mentioned about the day and chatted excitedly about the upcoming feast that night. Tom would've let that slide if not for the fact that the boy had missed his breakfast meal that day, and later even the lunch. He seemed unusually quiet the whole day, even in the company of the noisy Gryffindors. Tom's eyes and ears had been trained on the boy the whole day, but without any result. The Hufflepuffs had noticed something was off in the History class when he didn't participate in their usual games. They didn't pester him for the reason though, which left Tom annoyed. He didn't like not knowing.

Peverell did not come to the Common Room that evening like he always used to. Later, Tom found out that he was in the company of the Hufflepuffs, of all people. Maybe, they provided a better emotional support, Tom surmised. The boy did show up at the feast, but Tom could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

That night at the feast, something happened at the Hogwarts Great Hall, which had never been seen before. And it had to do with Harrison Peverell, of course.

Tom and the rest of the Slytherins were having their dinner poised at their table as was expected from their House. Peverell was sitting in his usual place, right opposite Tom. Even the Bloody Baron was present, who was staring at the wall as usual, but Tom did notice that the ghost also stole some concerned glances at Peverell. The emerald-eyed boy however, was oblivious to all of this, and was lost in his own thoughts. He hadn't even glanced at the decorations once, which were done specifically for the occasion. He was looking a little pale and was uncharacteristically quiet, his plate left untouched.

Towards the end of the feast, a beautiful yellow lily caught Tom's eye. The flower floated towards Harrison gaining his attention at last, and he looked at it curiously. Another second later, there were six more yellow lilies joining the first one and they were all floating around Peverell. The boy looked at them and then over to the Hufflepuff table, before his face broke into a sad smile, making his green eyes shine brightly.

It seemed, the Hufflepuff students had decided that they needed to cheer up their friend and were all holding their wands under the table in order to keep the lilies afloat. It was a nice use of the levitation charm and Tom was sure it was Peverell who must've given them this idea when he was out with them during the evening. Did he show them how to conjure the flowers as well? Well, they simply needed a single flower and then all they had to do was to duplicate them.

It wasn't that impressive once you've deciphered the process, Tom mused. The flowers soon got others' attention and they had now begun looking at Peverell curiously who had a floating ring of seven yellow flowers around his head.

And if that wasn't enough, another sixteen lilies joined the group, half of them were red and half were of violet color. It was too easy to guess where they had come from. The Gryffindors weren't exactly subtle with their wands and were pointing theirs directly at Peverell and laughing loudly; the senior Gryffindors however didn't look too happy at their public display of association with a Slytherin. The first year Ravenclaws were all smiling at Peverell, while the older ones merely looked intrigued by their younger counterparts' actions. The boy, who was now surrounded by a swarm of colored lilies, was grinning at all his classmates irrespective of their Houses.

The Headmaster was absent from the feast, so it was the Deputy Headmaster who finally stood up to address the rising commotion from the students.

"Even though this has to be the one of the best display of inter-house friendship in the history of our school; I recommend those who are behind it to please put it to a stop now if you want to avoid any punishments. Your aim, I'm sure, has been completed by now." Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling at the first-years. The lilies all dropped down on Peverell, drowning him with yellow, red and violet flowers.

"Splendid! Now, everyone please get back to your food; the feast is coming to an end soon." With those words, Dumbledore sat back in his seat.

Tom however, was left trying to speculate what exactly Peverell had shared with the Hufflepuffs to have caused them to rain down lilies on him. He did try to glean this information from them the next day, but they refused to tell him. They were all adamant that telling Tom about something 'Harry' had told them in confidence would be a breach of his trust. Tom was simply left cursing their supposed loyalty.

* * *

 **So I've been thinking about giving the story a time leap, what do you guys say? Any thoughts? I'd be happy to consider any of the ideas you throw me!**


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